Entwined
by nite'starr
Summary: The Marauders' friendship runs deeper than a sense of mischief and daring pranks. Starting with 3rd year, the adventures, dangers and evils that M,W,P,P are faced with shape them into the legends they become.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't lay any claims on JK Rowling's creation. Just having fun with it.

* * *

**Chapter 1: First Steps**

James placed his latest purchases into the gray, bottomless trunk, snapped the top down, and belted it closed. Louis XVI was still fluttering around, orange feathers protruding in many wayward directions, not unlike James's own hair. The owl's wrought iron cage, triple tiered with flourishes in pewter, dangled haphazardly from James's pinky, as the soon-to-be Third Year cooed to his pet.

"Bloody bird, get your sorry arse into the cage this instant! I swear, that cat from next door is tearing his whiskers out, dreaming of getting his paws on you. One of these days I'm gonna let him," James thundered at the owl, his voice a mixture of contempt and amusement for the pampered pet whose sense of mischief matched that of his owner's.

At that moment, Louis was pecking at the golden statues atop James's dresser, testimony to his many childhood wins in the local broomstick races. The figures changed hues every few seconds, from gold to silver, passing platinum, burnished bronze and myriads of other variations on the standard precious metals. Finally, the iron pagoda's door banged shut, with Louis inside, but only as a result of the scary faces that James was forced to mime in his attempt to intimidate the fearless bird. James's personal favorite was "The Wolverine", a wolf-like imitation that scared the owl witless.

"Thank Merlin," James breathed, grabbing his shiny Lightning-streak Model 436-X on the way out of his palatial estate, as the winds of another year at Hogwarts blew his way.

* * *

"James, old pal! Where have you been these last months?"

"Hiya, James. What's brewing? You know, I expected to see lots more of you this summer…"

James was inattentive as Sirius and Remus prodded him with the sour fizzing sticks from their chocolate cauldrons. His eye was caught by the now-familiar landscape of Scotland coming into view. The proud mountains loomed above the ribbon of smoke that was the Hogwarts Express, as the enchanted train passed through them.

"Yeah, James, we've been trying to plan our Annual First Night's Rites, but you haven't been responding to our owls," Peter stuttered breathily into James's ear.

Peter's nervous chattering snapped James out of his haze. Yes, he had grown kind of lazy over the last, warm weeks of summer. Getting up at noon, stealing pancakes from the house elves' secret stash, and going for dips in the lake at the edge of his property left little time for answering post. James's self-assured countenance made it easy for him to saunter up to any 'boy on the block', or in the 3-mile radius surrounding his home, and ask to race him. He befriended muggles' and wizards' kids alike, only to forget he had ever met them once he was back at Hogwarts. But that was James.

"Yeah, First Rites, those," James itched his head, feigning forgetfulness. "So, we're doing them again?" he questioned in mock disappointment. This was only said to rile up his fellows, and to express his commitment to the ever-prominent cause.

"Sk-Skip the First Rites," Peter breathed, distress splashed across his face. "But why?" he whined.

Remus and Sirius laughed, used to James's sarcastic attempts. "_Those_ again," Sirius affirmed. "Jamie, old pal, this year's pranks better be Better Than Ever!" he bellowed. "Can't have anyone forgetting the Marauders!"

"No," James agreed softly, falling back into his reveries of one more summer gone by.

* * *

A/N: Hi. I know it's a short beginning, but I will expand on it. Please leave a review…thanx!


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't lay any claims on JK Rowling's creation. Just having fun with it.

* * *

**Chapter 2: Acquainted**

The 'Start of Year' celebrations in Gryffindor Common Room were just dying down, but the Marauders' merrymaking was about to begin. Mind you, no one was celebrating a return to mind-numbing classes, petty schoolyard rivalries, and the never-ending rules and regulations of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Rather, a feeling of reunion and camaraderie encompassed the bustling Common Room, as fairy cakes were stuffed down followed by butterbeers (and, 'under the tables', shots of firewhiskey passed the rounds of the eldest ranking in Hogwarts).

"Sirius," the brown-haired, clingy Delia drawled. A fellow 3rd year, Delia was obtuse as a Hufflepuff at times, and the Marauders' teasing often went over her head. "I missed you over the summer. I even sent you," Delia counted to herself, using her fingers as aids, "twelve owls! Twelve, Sirius. And you didn't respond once." Her whining grew higher in pitch, irritating both James and Sirius. "Why aren't you heading to bed Siri, Headmaster Dumbledore's announcement went out minutes ago. Look, there's hardly anyone here besides us," at this Delia began tugging on the cuffs of Sirius's new school robe.

"James," Sirius snarled. "Let's bounce." With that, the foursome slipped off, leaving Delia in their dust, still droning to the walls of the empty Common room. Even the portraits dozed off, rather than listen to her.

* * *

The Room of Requirement was a well-kept secret; 3rd floor, make two rights, and past the statue of the floating angel. It also happened to be one of the Marauders' favorite hang outs. Legend had it that young, rash and red-headed Arthur Weasley, who was now a respected wizard apprenticed by the ministry, stumbled upon the decrepit room during his 5th year escapades. The location was passed by word of mouth to the select and very few. And the Marauders were as selective as they got. 

After looking right and left, Sirius led the crew into their 'lounge'. The chameleon-like room would mold its décor to the inhabitants, and the endless possibilities kept the four lads on their toes. Presently, the room was furnished with racy, red leather couches that clashed with the dingy mustard rugs, but no one noticed. Peter was the first to spot the cabinets, now restocked, magically, with all the newest goodies currently on display at Honeydukes.

"Hey, guys!" Peter squeaked. "Check this out…we've got chocolate frogs, Bertie's Bott's, Fizzing suckers, Two-toned cauldrons, Zapping mints, Triple chocolate floating cookies…"

He needn't have said any more. Sirius and James were all over the sweets in moments, trampling Peter's crouched form. They filled their pockets (added charms in the process to create extra depth in the fabric) and began popping jelly beans. Remus, however, stayed put, leaning his shoulder on the door's mantle. A disturbed expression settled on his gentle, (and 'oh-so-cute' as any 3rd year girl could tell you) face.

"First Night's Rites, men! We have work to do, potions to brew, and plots to cook up! The clock is ticking and our First Night back will soon be over!" Remus grew passionate in his rebuke, glancing at his watch for emphasis. "We have less than 2 hours before the clock chimes midnight. And all you can think about is snacks?!"

"Chill, Moony. Have a butterbeer." At this, James proceeded to stick his had into an unidentifiable box, a cooler in fact, that was stashed amongst many other unidentifiable boxes in the corners of the dimly lit room. A frosted bottle came out and James popped the top with his teeth and handed the drink to Remus.

Complacent for the moment, Remus settled in next to Sirius on one of the three garishly colored couches. "So, on our agenda tonight," Sirius's voice projected from the very walls of the room so loudly that Peter huddled in his seat, "first off, The Discussion."

"Skip this nonsense, will you? Time's running short," James cut in. His complaint was overridden.

"Yes, well, there is the matter of the animagus potions that we spent a big chunk of last year researching." Second years, you see, had access to very few resources that contained information on animagi. The Marauders had learned the hard way.

"For starters," James's voice piped up, his mouth still full of chocolates, "I suggest trying the 'Phase One' potions, say this October. Phase Two…gimme a minute," James stopped to shake his black mop, thinking hard. "If I'm remembering right, you have to wait two months, fifteen days, three and a half hours after inhaling the fumes of the first, before swallowing the whole second potion."

James, as usual, blew away his friends with his almost photographic memory. "Hold, there a moment, buddy," Sirius added. "I think I see where you're going. Once 'Phase Two' is completed, the final steps take a few days at most. By October, Moony, we'll be joining you in your moonlight serenade!" This said, bottles of butterbeer were clonked together, and chugged in unison.

"So, proceeding swiftly," Remus cleared his throat, once more stealing a nervous look at his watch, "we are now ready for The Ceremony."

The events of First Year that threw the motley mix of boys together were now history. Yet the customs that were established that first, formative year, lived on.

Peter pulled out of a rucksack he had been clutching, two golden cauldrons. Three rows of stars and moons decorated the sides, starting by the rims of the cauldrons and proceeding in a geometric pattern downwards. The shapes were in commemoration of their much respected headmaster- Professor Dumbledore. The rows were attuned to the amount of years that the boys had spent in Hogwarts- the cauldrons spelled to display an additional row at the start of each year.

Soon, the room was enveloped in a formal aura emanating from the boys themselves, the air heavy with silence. Capes were donned- in red, green, brown, and blue. Next, the matching gloves, as well as black, pointed hats that Remus had once read of in a fairytale.

Finally, Sirius took the podium. "As the year begins anew," he began, his voice wizening for the moment, taking on a Dumbledorian quality, "the time approaches to start our brew. Pick up the gloves, Initiator. And consent to cast them off, later." Sirius's red-clad hands beckoned toward Remus.

Slow, tinkling music could almost be made out in the background as Remus stood up from his crouch beside the two gold cauldrons. He slipped off his own blue gloves and took from Sirius's outstretched hands the wispy, black ones. As he put them on, his breath caught, even though he knew what was coming. His fingers vanished, one by one.

"Take hold of the oak ladle," Sirius intoned, "Stir thrice the empty bowels of this golden cradle."

Remus picked up the spoon, a cooking utensil stolen from Sirius's mother's store of kitchen appliances with bizarre magical properties. The flat, round part happened to be a semi-wand, capable of simple heating and igniting spells. The boys gathered around and watched intently, in reverent silence.

"Throw, in one swift stroke, the powder of metallyka, and wait until the flames ignite and flicker."

Once more, Remus complied, throwing into the cauldron three pinches of a copper-tinted powder. His fingers, still invisible, grasped the stirring spoon. At first contact between powder and spoon, a "boom" shot out from the cauldron. Billowing red smoke followed, with blue flames peeking out. Peter coughed into his grubby hands, but the other three Gryffindors smiled knowingly.

"Commitments, Marauders. It is time."

The preparations done with, the rites had begun in earnest. This was the moment of truth, when the teenaged boys would commit to take on a new challenge, conquer a fear, learn a new talent, or train themselves to become better, more moral humans. And, now the four sat contemplating, as the hour neared mid-night. As the clock chimed, the oaths would be recited, the commitments made, and the bonds of friendship forged once more.

The dimmed lights flickered, as if nervous, but the boys ignored the temporary distraction. Some eyes were closed, some faraway, lost in a different time. The lot looked pensive, drawn, in stark contrast to the rowdy students that had enjoyed themselves in the celebrations of the early evening. The common room party seemed a life time ago. And for the moment, time stood still. And the pounding footsteps weren't heard until the handle of the Room of Requirement was yanked open, and a breathless figure stumbled in. The door slammed behind her.

* * *

"Professor Dumbledore, with all due respect-" 

"Enough said Minerva. You should go rest. The students need you awake tomorrow, you are a Head of House now, or did you forget?" Dumbledore chided, as if Professor McGonagall was still a floundering teacher's aid, just getting her bearings.

"I will not lie Professor. I am afraid. Something is brewing behind our backs…and we will one day find ourselves unaware of the danger we are faced with!" The serene visage that dominated Minerva McGonagall's features most days, evaporated. She stood ram-rod straight, yet her fear was bared on her carved features. Her hazel eyes glinted with seriousness, and refused dismissal.

"It is not _my_ first year as Headmaster. And it is not the first time I, or one of the respected staff members, have been threatened. If you are uncomfortable in remaining here, you may resign."

Shock registered on Professor McGonagall's face.

"It is not in my ability to force you to persist in educating the next magical generation. And although I was looking forward to having you join our current Heads of House, your decisions are _your_ prerogative. The way my school is run," Dumbledore paused, fixing Minerva with a stony glare, "is mine."

"A student has been threatened-" McGonagall managed to exclaim before being silenced with another glower from the Headmaster. His oft-commented on twinkle was gone from his blue eyes. Even traces of concern were hidden from view behind layers of occlumency.

Resigned, Gryffindor's Head of House made her way out of Dumbledore's private office. As she shuffled back to her chambers, her thoughts raced with each other, each vying for her attention. So lost was she in her musings, that the sudden slamming of a door down the corridor didn't shake her out of her reverie. Elsewhere in the castle, all was silent.

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Please review. Thanx! 


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